Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering
by FiveOfFive
Summary: Buffy/Supernatural; Willow/Dean; Set 4 years after the destruction of Sunnydale, end S2 of Supernatural. Willow and Dean had a relationship during the time when Sam was at college, but she ended it suddenly. With one year to live, Dean looks for answers.
1. Prelude

Prelude

Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, they are owned by their respective companies none of which are me. Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering belongs to Flogging Molly, again, not me… which is sad for me, but nice for them.

Author's Note: This is a sequel of sorts to "You're Already Gone" if you didn't read it you wont be horribly lost or anything, but I wont be covering the break-up scene in too much detail, since that's all the other story is.

AN2: This story will have flashbacks to cover the "good times" of Willow/Dean and how they met. The date at the beginning is the day All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2 aired in the U.S.

AN3: The title is from a Flogging Molly song: Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering, lyrics are provided at the end of the Prelude.

Setting: Just after Season 2 Supernatural. Four years after Season 7 Buffy. Two years after "You're Already Gone"

Pairings: Willow/Dean, Sammy/? (will be secondary to plot and W/D love… maybe Faith or Dawn?)

Prelude:

May 17th 2007

"I guess I'm gonna have to save your ass for a change" Sam said with a half smile.

"Yeah." Dean whispered in return, his voice husky from holding back the tears that had been threatening to fall since Sam found out that his big brother sold his own soul to bring Sammy back from the dead. Dean made a move toward Sam, needing to make sure he was really alright after the battle. Both stilled as they heard something crunching through the underbrush. Sam and Dean began to reach for their guns, but relaxed as two familiar forms came into sight.

Bobby and Ellen limped to where the Winchester boys were standing; the Devil's Gate was closed, and the Yellow Eyed Demon was dead. Bobby looked resolutely between Dean and Sam,

"I hope to hell you boys are ready," he said, cutting short any celebration at the group's reunion. "'Cause the war has just begun…."

Dean looked at his brother and flashed one of his thousand watt smiles.

"Well then," he began opening the trunk of the Impala and tossing in the Colt. "We got work to do."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Flogging Molly-Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering**

I walk these streets where my soulless feet  
Haunt the ground where it was I once tread  
On Grafton's Arcade pours the rich commerce rain  
Though the voices I no longer hear speak  
Heaven's to blame so on that I'll abstain  
Best clean the church from my cracked fingernail  
But don't let me die still wondering  
What it was I left behind

From God's golden plate begrudges they eat  
Till their belly's burst ignorance bliss  
Never they roam a wanderless home  
Is as far as their sorry eye sees  
Give me a rusty ol' coat well trampled and soaked  
Until these ashes and blood mingle deep  
But don't let me die still wondering  
What it was I left behind

Though I've been that face before  
Slammed every open door  
Squandered once scattered beliefs  
So when the waves come crashin' in  
I'll swim as the ocean swims  
Out with the morning tide  
Then back for my tea

So I'll do as I please like the well-tempered breeze  
Blowin' which way I see fit  
And I'll grey with the clay seven days till the day  
When they throw me on the potter's scrap heap  
But take my advice; you'll have to bury me twice  
Cause the first time I won't rest easily  
But don't let die still wondering  
What it was I left behind

So don't let die still wondering  
What it was I left behind  
I want a race well run ahead of the gun  
With a dance before the far finish line  
So no life long regrets, only well feathered steps  
Until these shoes I can longer shine  
But don't let me die still wanderin'  
For the love I left behind


	2. This Girl and First Impressions

Chapter 1

Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering

AN: What can I say; I love author's notes… Most of the protection spell/symbol stuff I got from: symbolictrees./myweblog/2008/02/the-rowan-tree.html and /symbols/mandorla.htm also some of the dialogue explainy stuff.

AN2: No you can't start reading the story yet, I'm not done! 'Things in (') and _Italics _Thoughts'

AN3: OK, now you can read it…

Chapter One: This Girl and First Impressions

June 5th 2007

"So, why are we going to see this girl Dean?"

Dean gripped the steering wheel of his baby, a 1967 Chevy Impala, until his knuckles turned white. He rolled his eyes skyward begging whoever might be listening for patience and slowly loosened his hold before the wheel snapped… or he did. Dean had been hearing some variation of this question since he first mentioned wanting to go on this trip to Sammy, a decision he was beginning to regret.

"Her name is Willow Rosenberg, not "this girl". She is 26 years old, and a friend; I met her about three years ago."

"Yeah Dean, you've told me that already. What you keep leaving out is why seeing her is so damn important." Sam stated, as exasperated as Dean with their merry-go-round conversation.

"Just drop it Sam!"

"Dean…" Sam started. Dean briefly took his eyes off the road to glance at his brother. Big mistake, Sam was doing his best sad puppy impersonation.

"Okay, I'll tell you! Just stop with The Look," Dean sighed, as his brother sat back with a self-satisfied smile.

"Willow's not just a friend, we used to date…. Actually we used to live together." Dean risked another glance at Sam, who sat there gaping like a large mouthed bass someone had just tossed on shore, too shocked to speak. _'Maybe I should have told him sooner if that's all it takes to shut him up,'_ Dean mused.

"We shacked-up for a while, she left, and since I only have a year to live I thought it'd be nice to see her again; maybe get back some of my Zeppelin tapes she took with her when she left." Dean joked, trying to lighten the uncomfortable moment.

"How long's "a while" Dean?"

"I don't know… like, almost a year, maybe."

"Dean, I'm sorry man, I didn't know."

"Well that's just because I never told ya Sammy," Dean smiled. "Look, it's no big deal dude."

"No! Don't you even try to pull that shit with me Dean; you were together for a year man! If she doesn't matter than why do you want to see her so bad? No jokes, no bull." Sam looked around nervously as his brother pulled to the side of the empty highway, wondering if he'd pushed Dean too far and was about to get punched in the nose for his concern.

"My whole life," Dean began; his voice sounding like it might break. "I've loved two women," Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white.

"The first died in Lawrence, Kansas, twenty-four years ago. The second is Willow, I have to see her again; one last time before I head south for eternity," Dean turned to look his brother in the eyes. "She's my dying wish Sammy," Sam reached his hand out and laid it on Dean's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Dean's jaw clenched and his hand darted up to wipe away the solitary tear that had made it past his defenses.

"Sam?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"If you ever force me into a full blown chick flick moment like that again; I'll give you an Atomic Wedgee so bad my grand nephews'll go to the grave walkin' funny."

XXXXXXXXXX

It had been a long drive to Cleveland, and Dean wanted his "beauty sleep" before he saw Willow again. As they settled in for the night Dean found his thoughts straying to the life he'd led with the red haired girl who'd been haunting his dreams since he made that deal with the Crossroads Demon. Sleep took Dean, and his mind wandered back to their first meeting…

_September 14, 2004_

It was that time of the year again, and Dean had just finished his "back-to-school" check-up on Sammy; not that his baby bro ever would ever know about it of course. It was something he'd gotten in the habit of doing when Sam first started community college two years ago. Of course they'd still been talking then, but Dean never told Sam just how much checking up he did whenever Sam was away from his family. Dean had only been a few miles outside of Palo Alto when he felt the call of nature. He was just about to pull off the road to water the bushes, when he noticed a weather beaten building nestled a little ways back from the highway. As he got closer he saw a faded sign reading "Psychic Floe's Diner". Slightly dubious he pulled into the lot, parking his car out of sight of the diner windows. Dean then popped open the glove compartment and pulled out an extra handgun, _'just a precaution'_ he thought, as he made his way across the mostly deserted lot and into the building.

He stopped just inside the door to get a good look at his surroundings; the diner was empty except for a couple of old men in a corner booth on the left wall playing chess and drinking coffee. There were a half dozen booths, three on the right wall three on the left, the middle of the diner was filled with tables and chairs, so was the front wall where the door was. At the back, a straight shot from where Dean was standing was a counter; behind that was a door which he guessed led to the kitchen. On the back wall there was an elaborate mirror, the shape struck Dean as odd, there was something familiar about it but he was having trouble placing where he'd seen it before. Dean stepped further into the diner to get a better look, as he got closer he could tell that the mirror was fitted inside two circles which were overlapping in the middle, forming an almond shape at the center. It kind of reminded him of a project from the first grade, he was supposed to list what he liked about dogs in one circle and what he liked about cats in the other, in the middle was where the things he liked about both animals went. As Dean thought back he remembered blowing off the project and instead listing what he liked about handguns and shotguns, he ended up having to make the middle part bigger since he liked so many of the same things about both; his teacher had over reacted and they moved two days after he did that project, but wherever they went for the next month his dad would put the diagram up on the fridge.

He was almost to the middle of the room when he looked down and saw a tree etched into the floor. Dean stooped to get a closer look at the design, it was a rowan tree, he remembered from his lessons with his dad. In Celtic tradition certain trees were believed to hold mystical properties, the rowan was for protection, it was strong and resilient, and could grow almost anywhere. Its sturdy branches made for excellent wands, staffs, and buildings; legend went that a building made from the wood of a rowan would stand forever, and that no one could harm another inside its walls. Dean stood up and took a step back, as he did he saw that the tree was in the middle of some symbol, but it was too big for him to see from where he was. Dean ran over to the counter and jumped on it to get a better look; the rowan tree was in the middle of a pentagram. Dean leapt off the counter and sat down at one of the tables, he put his face in his hands. _'This is one of the most complex protection spells I've ever seen…'_

"Damn right it is sweetie, took me twenty years to build her."

Dean stood up fast, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting in, pulling the gun out of his shoulder holster as he rose. Standing behind the counter was a woman who Dean thought must have missed the memo about the 60s being over. She looked to be about 55 years old, with a kind, motherly face, rust red hair that looked faded by time and the pleasantly plump physic of a woman who liked to taste her cooking, and didn't give a damn about carbs. She was also wearing a tye-dye dress in shades of blue, red, green and yellow that seemed to swirl around in his peripheral vision; and about ten strings of beads that Dean found himself praying she didn't get from Mardi Gras.

"Dean Winchester, I've heard a lot about you." Her voice was pitched low, almost like a smoker's, only more musical. There was a rhythm to her way of speaking that soothed Dean; something about the lilt in her voice made him feel safe. Which immediately put him on edge.

"Wish I could say the same… but uh, I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're Floe." Dean grip tightened on his .45 the familiar feeling of metal comforted him, allowing Dean to lower the gun slightly as he warily stepped closer to the counter, and the unnerving woman behind it.

"Now stop that nonsense boy! You know perfectly well nothing can harm you in here, John may be a headstrong fool, but he taught you how to read symbols and recognize patterns for protection spells!"

Dean stopped his approach, the sound of his father's name jogging a memory from a long time ago. His dad taught him about more than just protection spells; the meaning of the mirrored symbol behind the counter came to the front of Dean's mind in a flash. The Mandorla, it was an ancient Latin symbol used to show two opposite yet complimentary forces. Like heaven and earth, the natural and the supernatural, the divine and the human; when the two forces are in perfect harmony, each working with the other instead of against it the circles are supposed to merge, forming one complete entity. _'That's one mystery solved, now, how the fuck does she know dad?'_

"You know John Winchester?" He asked, trying to sound merely curious.

"Who in our line of business doesn't know John?" A female voice rang out from behind him.

Dean spun putting his back to the empty right wall simultaneously pulling the second gun from the waistband of his pants. The first gun was quickly trained on Floe, the second on the three newcomers who had walked in the door, surprising him. Dean allowed the brunt of his attention to shift from Floe to the threesome; they were two girls and a guy. The dude got a threat assessment first, sexist maybe, but he was almost as tall as Dean and looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He looked to be about 5'11", with a shaggy mop of brown hair, but the most noticeable thing about him was his eyes, he only had one: brown. The girls didn't look like they could take out the trash, let alone something as nasty as what showed up in his father's line of work. The shorter of the two held herself like some kind of cat, coiled and ready to pounce, she had blonde hair, green eyes, and a tight little body Dean could easily imagine losing himself in for hours. Next to the blond stood a redhead, 5'6" to the blonde's 5'3", Dean's eyes locked with hers, and all thoughts of the blond bombshell flew out of his mind. Dean allowed his eyes to roam over her body, taking in the near ankle length purple tie-dye skirt and skimpy white tank. While the blonde had a sun-kissed tan and looked like something out of Cheerleaders Weekly, the redhead's skin was pale, a peaches and cream complexion he longed to see spread out naked on a bed before him, with the moonlight caressing every inch of her, until it was his turn.

Dean came back to himself with a start and a slight blush, imperceptible unless you knew to look for it. If he'd had any idea of how quickly the vision in front of him would learn to read those signals Dean might have fled rather than risk another human knowing him so well. He raised his hazel eyes back to hers, and was surprised to see that their shade almost matched his own. Dean proceeded to search her face, trying to ascertain her thoughts; and if that hitch in her breathing or increased heart rate were anything to go by, she was thinking something naughtily similar. She lifted her gaze to meet his and blushed a vibrant shade of pink when she realized he was still studying her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Present Day

Dean's introduction to consciousness the next morning was painful; Sam, apparently tired of his yells going unheeded by his big brother, had decided that a boot tossed less than gently at Dean's head would be a more efficient alarm clock.

"Dude! What the hell?!" Dean exclaimed as he hurled the footwear back at Sam.

"It's time to wake-up sleepy head; you're the one that said you wanted to get an early start today." Sam said laughing as he ducked his boot on its return journey, thrown in the mutual spirit of brotherly love.

"Come on Dean, get up."

"What is your malfunction Sam? I'm the one reuniting with my ex, shouldn't you be calm and I be jumpy and annoying?"

"Well if you don't get your lazy ass moving your year'll be up before I even get a chance to meet this girl, so hurry up."

Dean, never being the type of guy to let anyone else have the last word growled.

"For the last time her name is "Willow", Sasquatch, not "this girl". It's nice to see that college education of yours is paying off so well."

Sam stuck his tongue at his big bro, when Dean looked up and saw Sam he returned the sentiment and both began to laugh. For some perverse Winchester reason he felt like a weight had been lifted. Ever since he made that deal Sam had been looking at him like he was already a ghost, and treating him like glass; the fact that he could crack a joke was a very good sign that things might yet be okay for the brothers.

'_God we are _so_ screwed up….'_


	3. The End of the Driveway

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one is owned by Kripke and Co. the other by Whedon and Friends, together they are Captain Planet.

Author's Note: What you thought I wouldn't have any? Firstly the usual _'things in (') and italics indicate thoughts'_

AN2: I do a fair bit of jumping through time, the dates will be clearly marked, and for the most part they will follow the linear course of Dean and Willow's relationship, however there will be some jumping about for special events, because I'm mean like that (shrug).

AN3: I was thinking of having a side pairing of Sam with Faith or Dawn, ideas anyone? Also, do you guys want Dean/Willow to go fast or slow? Input from you my Gentle Readers is always welcome.

AN4: Last one, promise, the name for the Slayer School is not mine, I've scene it around in other fics and liked the idea, so other fic writers if you used it first, good on you; I may be ripping you off, but I do it because you had a great idea… and I'm lazy.

The End of the Driveway

June 6th 2007

Dean and Sam drove down the long drive in silence… mostly.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Where does your girlfriend work again?"

"The Joyce Summers School for Girls"

"And they train slayers…"

"Yeah"

"In a mansion…"

"Yeah"

"At the end of a five mile long driveway…"

"Yeah"

"We got jipped dude."

"Don't I know it." Dean threw his brother a half-smile before turning his attention back to the wheel.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"…Are we there yet" Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes. _'This is worse then when he was five.'_

"Not yet Sammy, it should be around the next bend"

"You said that three bends ago Dean"

"I've only been here once before Sam, and I wasn't counting the bends in the road then."

August 21st 2005

Dean looked down at her picture and wanted to cry; Willow always said that a good cry did a world of good. It got all of you're your toxic emotions out and gave you a chance to heal. He wished he could cry.

Willow had left three days ago, the first day he'd spent in their home, pacing through the rooms, hoping he'd enter one and there she'd be; praying that this was all some sort of mistake. Praying… he'd stopped believing in angels when his mother died, God when Sammy left him. Then he'd met her, and suddenly nothing seemed impossible, he'd even started going to church again. Not every Sunday, but after a really bad hunt, he'd stop off at the nearest church and pray for forgiveness, and for the souls of the ones he couldn't save. Dean didn't believe in souls, until she introduced him to Angel and Spike, told him stories of what they'd done and who they are. Spike and he had actually become friends, whenever the Vamp was in town "visitin' Red" they would go out for a beer, the two had even teamed up on some hunts.

The second day after Willow left he started calling her cell; it rang six times before he heard her voice.

"Hi! This is Willow, I can't come to the phone right now, I'm probably out saving the world or canoodling with my boyfriend; but I'll get back to you as soon as the world is safe… or all canoodles have ceased!"

He felt his heart plummet as he realized it was just her voicemail. _'This would be a perfect time to cry,'_ he thought as he wiped dry eyes. Dean tried calling Willow three more times, the last time it didn't even ring, it just went to voicemail. He called Spike next… the phone went straight to voicemail. After that he tried Xander's cell, same thing happened. Buffy, Giles, Dawn, and Faith's phones all had the same non-response; in a moment of desperation he even tried Andrew, nothing.

'_Bastards don't even have the balls to pick-up. Guess they're coordinating on how best to avoid me.'_

It was around the twentieth time he'd called Willow's cell that he thought _'Screw-it, if they won't pick-up, I'll go to them.'_ Dean packed a bag to last him five days, _'Two there, two back, and one to convince Willow to come home, and God help any of those mother-fuckers that try to stop me.'_

He got to Cleveland late, and decided to grab a motel room, rest-up before seeing her. _'Won't be able to talk her into coming home if you look like hell.' _The next morning he steered the Impala up the impossibly long drive until he reached a gate. _'Gate my ass, more like the outer wall of a fortress. Which now that I think about it makes sense,'_ he shrugged to himself.

There was an intercom about a cars length away from the main gate, Dean pushed a buzzer on the side and waited.

"Can I help you?" A chipper female voice asked, slightly distorted through the intercom.

"I certainly hope so darlin', this is Dean Winchester, I'm here to speak with Willow Rosenberg." Dean smiled and waved at the security camera he could see perched on top of the wall.

"One moment please." Dean frowned, she sounded worried. He waited for seven minutes before deciding the girl had gone on a lunch break or something and began to press the buzzer repeatedly, 'screw-it' he thought again and held the buzzer down. The noise was beginning to give him a headache when he saw a familiar form walking toward the gate.

'_What the hell? Faith?'_

Dean got out of his car and stepped up to the iron bars, he tried to keep the look of confusion off his face as he greeted the girl he thought had been his friend.

"Hey hot stuff, what's shaken'?"

"What are you doing here Dean?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her abrupt question.

"No, 'you're looking good'; 'it's been a while'? Come-on Faith, what happened to common courtesy?" He asked, bravado had always worked well in covering-up how scared he really was. One look in her eyes and he knew it wasn't working, _'should have remembered she's the world champ when it comes to covering.'_

"I'm sorry Dean, but you can't be here." Dean flinched at the compassion in her voice.

"As much as I enjoy our chats sweet-cheeks, I'm not here to see you. Where's Willow?"

"She doesn't want to see you."

"Bull!" It was Faith's turn to flinch at the anger and desperation filling that one word.

"I'm telling you the truth hot-pants, it's over, she wants you to stop calling, and she wants you to leave."

"Why?" So much pain in one little word, and she couldn't give him the answer. "Please."

'_Oh God, kill me now, it'd be less painful than this, why did I have to tell them I'd speak with him?'_ Faith wondered even as another part of her brain supplied the answer, _'because he deserves someone to tell him to his face, because he's your friend, he didn't judge you when he found out about your past, and none of the others had the guts to face him._'

"I'm sorry Dean, please believe me, I'm so sorry. I…"

"Don't," he cut her off, shaking his head. "There's nothing I can say or do that's going to get her to come back to me is there?" Faith blinked back tears as she ripped his heart to shreds.

"No, nothing," Dean nodded his head as he came to a decision. He loves Willow, and if she doesn't want to be with him any more than he's not going to make it any harder for her. Still, he can't go without making sure she knows something,

"Will you give her a message for me?" Doubt and uncertainty swirled in her eyes, "I'll go, I'll leave… just, tell her something for me, please." Faith nodded her head, not trusting her voice.

"Tell her, I love her… and I'm sorry." He waited until Faith nodded her head again, showing that she understood and would let Willow know. Then Dean got in his car and drove away.

'_He thinks it's his fault, he thinks this is because of something he did; he thinks she doesn't love him anymore.'_ Faith waited until her back was turned and Dean could no longer see her in his rear view before she gave in to the tears that had been begging to fall.

Dean pulled to the side of the road about three hours outside of Cleveland. He pulled out the picture of Willow he kept clipped to his visar; he'd taken it a few days after Christmas. She had given him a camera and that morning he thought it would be a laugh to capture her on film before she'd had a chance to brush her hair or drink her first cup of coffee. It was supposed to be a joke, a little something to tease her with later, and it had worked, she'd chased him around the apartment for half an hour trying to get the camera away from him before collapsing in exhaustion on the sofa. About a week later Dean took the film in to be developed. He was going through all the pictures he'd taken when he spotted that picture of her. She was wearing teddy bear pajama bottoms and a Snoopy and Woodstock tank-top, the morning sun was shining in through the bedroom window, making her glow; he fell in love with her all over again. Dean had kept the picture in his car after that, he knew that if she saw it she'd exclaim over the bags under her eyes, and how messy her hair was. So he kept it to himself, a perfect moment captured forever, and no matter how many times he looked at it, Dean never really saw the bags under her eyes or how messy her hair was; he only ever saw Willow, the girl of his dreams.

Dean stared down at her picture, even now he couldn't see any of the imperfections, all he saw was his heart breaking. Finally, after three days, Dean cried.

Present Day

Dean came back to himself with a start, he'd been lost in memories and it took Sam's punching his shoulder to shock him back to reality. He looked from Sam's concerned face to the gate in front of him; it hadn't changed in two years. He glanced to his left, the intercom looked newer, it had a pad where you could punch in an access code, and a fingerprint scanner. _'Looks like The Counsel have gone high-tech.'_

"You gonna be okay dude?" Sam asked with a small frown, worry evident in every line on his face.

"Always Sam," Dean replied with one of his patented 'nothing can hurt me' smiles and a cocky wink. He rolled down the Impala's window, took a deep breath, and pushed the buzzer.

'_Here I go again.'_


	4. Awkward Introductions

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Buffy the Vampire Slayer if I did all the male characters would run away and join a nudist colony…

Thanks: To everyone who (for whatever reason) thinks this is good enough to read, and a special "thank you" to my reviewers, jadelouise and Aaron. I really appreciate the feedback!

Authors Note: '_Things in (') and italicized express thoughts'_

AN2: Sam is still without love at the moment; I haven't decided yet who I'd like him to get freaky with but your input on the subject is always welcome.

AN3: I've made a timeline for the major dates and events in the lives of Dean and Willow, and I'm adding to it each chapter, is this something you'd like to see posted? If yes, separately or at the end of chapters? It's really helped me keep my head strait and if you guys think that's something you'd like to see let me know.

Now, on with the show…

Awkward Introductions

June 6th 2007

"Joyce Summers School for Girls, how can I help you?"

'_Jesus, why are all slayers perky?'_

"Yeah, I need to speak with Willow Rosenberg," Dean informed the annoyingly happy voice.

"Please state your name and what business you have with Ms. Rosenberg," the voice had become wary, Dean preferred chipper; a defensive slayer was not what he needed to talk his way in.

"My name? Uh, yeah, sure thing… my name is Sky Masterson."

"And your business concerning Ms. Rosenberg?"

"Look, could you… could you just tell her I'm here, please? She'll understand," Dean held his breath waiting for her answer.

"One moment please," Dean heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Dean turned his head to look at Sam, a little smile on his face.

"Sky Masterson?"

"What? It's a good alias."

"As in Marlon Brando's role in Guy's and Dolls?" Sam asked clearly in disbelief.

"Yeah, Marlon Brando," Dean began defensively.

"Dude, Guys and Dolls!" Sam finished for him.

"Look it was one of her favorite movies, and she always said that if I really needed to see her, like life and death needed to see her, I could use that name."

"I don't know man, David Hasselhoff's one thing, but you're taking names from Broadway musicals now?" Sam teased, overjoyed at the slight blush and obvious embarrassment his brother was suffering. Dean was saved the indignity of defending his new name by the cracking of the intercom, signally that the slayer on the other end had returned.

"Ms. Rosenberg has agreed to see you Mr. Masterson,"

'_Please stop calling me that,'_ Dean thought as Sam smothered a giggle.

"Park your car in front of the main house and wait there; an attendant will come for you shortly," the voice was now distinctly disgruntled, which didn't bode well for Dean should he ever come in contact with this particular slayer.

'_No good worrying 'bout the slayer that hasn't reached you when there's a witch in front of you,'_ Dean mused as the gate swung open and he steered his car through.

XXXXXXXXXX

September 14th 2004

Despite his momentary inattention caused by the pretty red-head, neither gun wavered as Dean waited for the newcomers to speak. The blond broke the silence first,

"Are you going to point those things at us all day?" She queried, "It's not like they'll do you any good in here."

'_She's impatient,'_ Dean thought. _'Good to know.'_

"Sorry princess, but I'm not putting anything down until someone explains what the hell Miss Cleo's doing in a run-down diner in the middle of nowhere," Dean inclined his head briefly in Floe's direction, "and how the hell y'all know John Winchester."

Blondie glared at Eye-Patch when he sniggered at the Miss Cleo comment before turning her icy gaze back on Dean.

"What's it to you how we know John?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at the familiar way she said his father's name, but remained silent. The red-head surprised him by breaking the staring competition going on between him and Goldilocks.

"Okay, this is ridiculous; I know a simple way to find out if we can trust this guy. Floe?"

"I was wondering when you lot were going to remember I was still here," Floe laughed from behind the counter. "It's alright to trust him sweetie, he's John's eldest boy, Dean."

Dean's head whipped around to stare at Floe for a second before turning back to the more immediate threat. '_Fricken psychics! Always know more'n you want 'em to and never asking permission before they go waltzing through your head.'_

"Well now that you know all about me, how's about you return the favor and tell me how it is that you know my dad?" Dean asked, teeth bared in frustration.

"Is that the only question you know how to ask?" Blondie quipped.

"Until I get an answer it is," Dean growled in response.

"Yup, he's definitely John's son," Eye-Patch said breaking his silence.

'_Jesus I need to find out what there names are, this is getting ridiculous,' _but Dean, never being one to back down, kept quiet and waited until someone answered his original question. He wasn't surprised when the red-head was the one to offer an olive branch.

"We first met John about two years ago, in Sunnydale California," Dean did a quick double take when he heard the name. His dad had told him it was on a hellmouth, and to stay away unless he had back-up with him. The whole town had disappeared into a sinkhole a year ago May, he remembered his dad had been really worried about something until he got a phone call; after that he relaxed, Dean never asked what it was all about.

"We live in Cleveland now," Dean raised his eyebrow again; these folks really had a thing for hellmouths. "He stops in every now and again, but we haven't seen him for months."

That didn't surprise Dean; ever since Sammy left his dad had been getting more and more distant, he'd sometimes go weeks without calling to check in on Dean. It all started a little over a year ago when Sam had gotten a letter from Stanford offering a full ride. He'd told their dad he was going, and the resulting fight was one Dean wished he could forget. It was all he could do to keep them from killing each other and it ended when Sam packed his things, slammed out of the motel room, and moved in with Bobby until school started. John had hoped Bobby could talk some sense into Sam, so he'd decided to let the kid cool off over the summer. Unfortunately for John his old friend believed Sam deserved a life of his own, and bought Sammy a bus ticket to California; another thing Dean wished he could forget was his dad's reaction when he found out Bobby had taken Sam's side.

Four hours after Sam got on the bus to leave for Stanford John roared into Bobby's salvage yard; Dean barely managed to drag him out of there before Bobby could fill him full of buck-shot. John and Bobby hadn't spoken since; Dean was still reeling from the loss of his brother and his surrogate father within just a couple months of each other. Dean was coping the only way he know how, by clinging even harder to his father's orders; hoping that if he was a good enough son his dad would find a way to fix everything so it would be like it was.

Dean slowly lowered his guns, what she told him fit with what he knew, and it wasn't like they could hurt him in a place this heavily warded anyway. More than that though was the feeling that this girl cared about his dad, and was worried over his absence. There was something in her eyes that made Dean want to trust her, so for the first time in a long time, Dean ignored his father's teachings, and trusted someone who wasn't family.

Dean heard a collective sigh from the three companions when he holstered his gun and tucked the other securely in his waist band. Now that the standoff was over no one seemed sure of what to say, as Dean stared at the red-head he felt compelled to apologize for waving a gun in her face.

"Ahem," Dean cleared is throat awkwardly. _'This is why I don't try to make friends with people,'_ he thought to himself.

"I'm sorry about the whole 'pointing a gun at you' thing; it's just, you don't get too far in my line of work by trusting people," it wasn't much of an apology, but it was the best he could do. Again the red-head stepped up and saved him from an embarrassing silence following his statement.

"It's alright, why don't we just forget about it and start fresh," She offered with a sweet smile, which turned into a hard glare when she looked at her friends. "Right guys?"

"Oh, yeah,"

"Sure,"

"Sounds like a plan,"

"What the world needs now is forgiveness," the others chimed in together. Dean did his best to bite back a grin at their rush to keep the little woman happy, but a corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. Fortunately the threesome were too focused on each other to take note of him, but as Dean looked around he saw that Floe had come out from behind the counter and had knowing smile on her face when her eyes flicked to his.

"Perhaps now would be a good time for proper introductions," Floe said, getting the attention of the three by the door. She turned to Dean and held out her hand, "My name is Florence Delacroix, but everyone calls me Floe. I met your daddy almost twenty years ago now, and he's been known to stop by from time to time when he was in the neighborhood." Dean shook her hand and allowed some of the woman's natural serenity to wash over him, calming his nerves; then he remembered his training and slammed his barriers down once more.

"Dean Winchester, I've known him for twenty-four years now," Dean let out a sad little laugh. "And I can't say I'm surprised he never mentioned any of you. I uh, didn't need to know I guess." Dean gave the room a devil-may-care grin, only the small shaking of his head betraying his feelings.

"Buffy Summers," Blondie cut in. "Where's John?" Dean's smile dimmed a bit before returning with full force as he threw he a wink.

"Well Bunny if you don't know then I'm not sure I should be telling you," Dean began to offer his hand to the girl but thought better of it when he saw the glint in her eyes at being called "Bunny". "Besides Ms. Summers," he quickly backpedaled. "I haven't met your other companions yet." Buffy narrowed her eyes trying to decide whether or not to punch him right in his smirking mouth, when the red-head spoke-up, ever the peacemaker.

"I'm Willow Rosenberg; it's nice to finally meet you Dean."

'_Well she sounds sincere,'_ Dean decided holding out his hand.

"It's nice to meet you too Ms. Rosenberg," Dean figured formality was his best bet while he evaluated the situation he now found himself in. Although he couldn't resist a small dig when he turned to the man wearing the eye-patch. "Blackbeard I presume?" He was surprised when the guy let out a bark of laughter before replying.

"Henry Morgan actually," he said with a good natured smile. "Although it says Alexander Harris on my driver's license, so let's go with that, everybody calls me Xander."

'_I like this guy,'_ Dean thought smiling, even as a voice in his head that sounded like his father warned him not to get too close.

Introductions over they all stood around staring at each other, no one quite sure what to say now.

"Well," Dean said voicing everyone's thoughts. "This is awkward."

XXXXXXXXXX

Present Day

A young girl of about fourteen had been waiting for them when they pulled up in front of the house, but after a long time around slayers Dean knew better than to be anything other than respectful to the girl apparently called "Cookie".

'_Is there some sort of unwritten law that says all slayers must be named something I wouldn't call a dog?'_ Dean wisely decided to keep his thoughts to himself on this subject.

Cookie led them through the waiting room placed in the front of the house, into a less formal entryway and up a flight of stairs leading to the right, down a couple of hallways until they stopped in front of an old oak door.

"This is one of the Watcher's privet libraries," Cookie informed them. Dean made sure to put the right expression of awe and wonder at being allowed into what amounted to the teacher's lounge.

"Please wait here," Cooke said voice barely above a whisper. "Miss Willow will be with you shortly." Dean couldn't help but smile to himself as he thought,

'_She must be new if she's still in such awe of this place.'_ He knew that Willow was uncomfortable with hero worship and tried to discourage it as much as possible in the younger slayers.

"Oh my God," he heard Sam gasp. "Dean, look at all these books!" Dean laughed loud and long, sometimes he forgot what a geek his brother was.

"I'm glad you like them," a soothing female voice said from across the room. Dean looked up just in time to see a door half hidden behind a shelf close as the woman who haunted his dreams came more fully into the library.

"Willow," that broken voice couldn't be his. Dean tried again, stronger this time,

"Willow." A smile crossed her face and he knew she'd heard his first attempt, but being who she was she'd never call him on it. Sam on the other hand couldn't resist.

"Willow," his brother mocked, "Dude, you'll never get chicks that way." Dean turned and punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"Bitch"

"Jerk"

"Dean?" Willow asked bringing his attention fully back to her, "Would you care to introduce me to your friend?" She knew what Sam looked like; Dean had showed her pictures of him when they were still together. But he was grateful for the chance to ease into the conversation he needed to have with her.

"Sam Winchester, Willow Rosenberg," Dean began, indicating each with a wave of his hand. "Willow, this is my brother Sam."

"It's nice to finally meet you Sam," Willow said holding her hand out.

"It's nice to meat you too Willow," Sam said taking the offered hand. Willow and Dean looked at each other, recognizing the echoes from a first meeting that took place years ago.

Sam released Willow's hand and stepped back to stand beside his brother, giving him the support he desperately needed but would never ask for. Silence fell, heavy and full of unasked questions as they stared at each other.

"Well," Dean said, voicing everyone's thoughts. "This is awkward."

The other may never know it, but in that moment Willow and Dean said the same thing to themselves,

'_Talk about deja-vu all over again.'_


	5. Questions and a Decision

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Supernatural, they are respectively owned by the evil geniuses Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this one out, writer's block sucks… also, don't kill me for the end, I promise I'll have the next chapter up soon as I can!

AN2: I'm still working ahead of my betas so any mistakes blame me not them

AN3: A "spork" is a combination "spoon" and "fork", often plastic and given to students with their cafeteria lunch. No it's not a non sequitur and stop looking at me like I'm crazy.

This is dedicated to MichelleWinchester, whose fabulous artwork kicked me in the ass and made me write! To see her interpretations of Don't Let Me Die Still Wondering visit her fanart Twisting the Supernatural at

Questions and a Decision

June 6th 2007

Dean cleared his throat nervously trying to think of something to say to the woman who used to know him better than anyone.

'_Except Sammy,_' Dean's mind conceded as his brother gave him a sympathetic glance and opened his mouth to speak so Dean wouldn't have to before he was ready.

"So Willow," Sam broke the silence that had fallen on the group, as Dean looked at his brother in appreciation.

'_Good 'ol Sammy,'_ Dean smiled. _'Always knows the right thing to say.'_

"Why'd you carve my brother's still beating heart out of his chest with a spork and crush it beneath your heal?"

'_Then again, maybe not,'_ Dean thought as his eyes grew large and his jaw dropped; Willow had much the same reaction as Dean only she added sputtering and frantic hand motions. Sam merely looked at Willow with his big damn puppy-dog eyes and an innocent expression on his face. Of the two, now blushing, people in the room, Dean was the first to recover.

"What the hell Sam?! We're here to talk with Will, not ambush her," Dean took one of Willow's flailing hands and led her to a group of furniture situated in the middle of the room, there were three armchairs and a sofa all clumped facing each other. Dean sat her down in the closest chair before going to the door he and Sam had entered through and speaking in hushed tones with the slayer he knew would be posted on the other side.

Sam looked at him curiously as he came back, "What did you say to her?"

"I asked her to get a glass of water for Willow," Dean replied distracted as knelt beside Willow's chair, taking one of her clammy hands in his own.

"How'd you get her to do that without coming in here to check that everything was alright?"

"I improvised Sammy," Dean said, eyes rolling. "Told her Will'd come down with a sudden coughing fit, and was catching her breath, but could use a drink. Of course I suppose I could have said that my Sasquatch of a brother put his Big-Foot in his mouth and almost made the poor girl swallow her tongue." Dean glared up at Sam.

Sam shifted from aforementioned big foot to big foot looking sheepish,

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't think of anything to say. How 'bout them Yankees just didn't seem appropriate."

"And spork murder did?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply when the door opened and a young slayer entered with the glass of water.

Fortunately for the boys Willow found her voice and was able to thank the slayer, Suzie, for the water. Once Suzie was out of the room Willow began to speak,

"Wow, and I thought Dean was the Winchester with a flair for the dramatic," she said looking up at an embarrassed Sam and a disgruntled Dean.

"I'm sorry," Sam began. "I didn't think you'd react so… strongly." Willow looked between the boys questioningly.

"You never told him about the 'spork incident'?" Willow asked, knowing the reason for her overreaction was caused more by the absurdity of memory than any offence at what Sam said. Dean looked down briefly, the only sign of his discomfort a slight clenching of his jaw.

"Yeah, well I didn't think it was that good a story," he tried lamely.

"Dean!" Willow exclaimed laughing again at the memory. "You were attacked by a possessed marionette wielding a spork! It stabbed you in the leg; you had to have seven stitches, how is that not a great story?"

"It's great if you're not me!" Dean tried to explain, while glaring at a giggling Sam.

"How did the marionette get a spork?" Sam asked when he caught his breath.

"Trust me dude," Dean said face serious and slightly haunted. "You don't want to know."

Dean's disgruntled gaze met Willow's mirthful one, and he felt the years and distance melt away. His own eyes began to soften as he looked at her; the air catching in his lungs as he was reminded of how beautiful she was, and why he'd fallen in love with her in the first place.

He looked away and quickly stood up, schooling his expression so none of his emotions could break through and betray how much he still loved her.

"Sam," Dean said, tilting his head to the corner farthest from the chair Willow was sitting in. Sam followed his big brother, to the far side of the room. "Why don't you ask one of the slayers to give you a tour?" Dean ordered, more than requested once they were out of ear shot.

"Dean, I don't like the idea of leaving you alone with her," Sam said with a worried look over his shoulder at the girl who was wreaking havoc on his brother's emotions. He'd seen Dean blank his face earlier and the sight had freaked him out; Dean hadn't done that since their dad died.

"Sammy, I get it, I do; and I appreciate you worryin' about me," Dean looked down and away. "You have no idea how much I appreciate everything you've done man," he continued awkwardly, still unable to meet Sam's eyes. "But there are things I need to know, questions I need answered; and I can't do that with you here. I…" he gritted his teeth and finally looked at his brother. "It's too much Sam, trying to deal with you and her. We're a team, you and me, we're all that's left; and I promise, I swear to you that after she and I talk I'll tell you everything. Please, I need to be alone with her to sort through all the shit swirlin' in my brain."

Sam sighed not happy, but unable to think of a valid excuse to stay.

"Alright man, just call me when you're done," he looked at Dean freezing him with his glare. "And if I have to be escorted around this place by 'Cookie' then you'd better learn how to live without sleep, because I swear to God, the first time you drop off, something's getting shaved." Sam spun around plastering a big, goofy grin on his face before joining Willow, leaving a speechless and slightly worried Dean in his wake.

XXXXXXXXXX

_'Thank God for Willow,'_ Dean thought, relief evident on his face. It seems she had anticipated that Dean might want to talk with her alone, and had asked if Faith and Dawn would mind showing Sam around the complex. Although upon further reflection Dean realized that Dawn, and especially Faith, knew things about him that he'd rather Sammy never find out. _'Thank God for blackmail,'_ he thought, rephrasing his earlier praise. With the dirt Dean had on them he could be sure that Sammy would never hear about his worst exploits.

'_Or if he does I'll be dead and long past caring,'_ Dean decided, looking on the bright side. He'd already asked Sam to keep his mouth shut about the deal, he wanted to be the one to tell his former friends, he felt he owed them that much at least.

Once Sam was on his way, looking decidedly uncomfortable between the two brunettes; Willow asked Dean to come back to her apartment where there was less chance of them being interrupted; or overheard.

Each of the school's teachers had their own set of rooms in the wings of the main building. The original members of the Scooby Gang, all shared a wing, while the new watchers and various teachers they'd hired shared the other. Even though the Scoobies weren't always in residence at the same time, they still liked to keep a sort of "home base" for everyone to come back to. However with the summer term about to start, and the latest apocalypse averted back in early May, all the Scoobies were in Cleveland to regroup and welcome the girls back from the short vacation they were sent on after the world didn't end. It was something they'd gotten in the habit of doing since the collapse of Sunnydale; after each apocalyptic aversion the slayerettes would get a mini vacation, and the Scoobies would party, and spend some quality time together.

Dean reflected that it was just his luck to have all his ghosts gathered in one place the day he decided to confront Willow.

'_At least this way, I can see everyone I cared about before I die,'_ Dean mused as he climbed the flight of stairs that led to the Scoobies Wing.

XXXXXXXXXX

Willow's apartment had a very "lived in" feel to it. As Dean looked around he recognized various objects, and pictures that he and Willow had acquired during their time together. There weren't any pictures of them as a couple, but he saw the one of her he'd taken in Shenandoah State Park the day he asked her to move in with him sitting on the mantel above the fireplace. He also spotted the Snoopy rug that had given her so much joy the day she bought it. Lost in memories Dean didn't realize Willow had spoken until she snapped her fingers in front of his face; Dean brought his startled eyes up to meet her bemused ones.

"Sorry Will, what did you say?"

"I asked if you'd like something to drink," she reiterated.

"Yeah," he said falsely enthusiastic. "So um, a coke would be great."

"I had something a bit harder in mind," she replied with a twinkle in her eye as she pulled a bottle off the top shelf of the bookcase. That twinkle had always meant trouble in the past, and Dean reflected that not everything had changed, as she revealed the beverage to be a bottle of Jack Daniels. It had been hidden behind "The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe", which Dean found strangely appropriate.

"Thanks," Dean said with a genuine smile of gratitude as he accepted the glass she had poured for him and moved towards the sitting room.

Dean settled on the couch and Willow did the same, leaving the middle cushion between them. Dean stared at the space separating him from Willow, realizing that with the exception of her minor fit earlier Willow had kept at arms length of him. Dean found himself wondering what exactly it was she feared; him or herself.

Dean took a sip of his drink, savoring the way it burned over his tongue and down his throat. Closing his eyes he allowed himself to relax, if only for a moment, in the presence of his one-time lover.

Willow watched him, a small smile playing across her face as she watched all the tension he'd locked inside him flow out. The moment didn't last long.

'_With Dean they never do,'_ she reflected remembering when they first met and how hard it had been to get him to let go of his responsibilities for a few seconds and just be Dean.

She watched as the man who had never truly left her heart roused himself from his reclined position, clenching his jaw slightly as a small furrow formed between his brows.

'_Snap out of it Dean!'_ He scolded his tense and tired body, _'this isn't home, and you have a job to do.'_ Dean took one last taste of liquid courage before turning to face Willow.

"I have some questions, and I need your help," he opened. Dean had never been one to lay his cards on the table, but he'd also never been able to hide anything from Willow for long. Dean was above all else practical, no point in beating around the bush, it would only hurt them both to avoid the tough subjects.

"Alright, where would you like to start, questions or favor?"

"Questions."

"Shoot."

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat knowing what his first question had to be.

"Do you know… about my dad?" Willow's pained look was answer enough, the Watcher's Council had learned of John Winchester's death.

"I'm so sorry Dean," she said softly, he had to lean in to hear her. It was one of the signs he'd learned while they were together, when she was distressed or feeling guilty her voice lowered to barely above a whisper; and she couldn't meet your eyes.

"We only heard about his death two months ago, you know how hunters are; tight lipped about everything. Especially with us, we've worked hard at repairing the damage the old Watcher's Council did between those they considered to be their own legitimate," on that word her lips curled and a slight sneer formed before her features returned to normal; "employees and the vigilante demon hunters. But it's been rough going, Xander and Faith have done a lot of good healing the breach; they're the ones who found out," her eyes began to fill as she tried to go on.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you as soon as I heard, we were in the middle of an apocalypse and I kept thinking there'd be time," her voice began to speed up and breathing in between words became less of a priority as she went on. "Then I was trying to think of what to say to you, and I didn't know how I could even call you after everything I did, and I knew you couldn't forgive me but I wanted so much to see if you were alright and then I couldn't find your number because it had been changed and none of us kept in touch which is totally my fault and I'm a bad Willow and a bad friend and I am so sorry Dean I just didn," Dean stopped her babble with a finger against her lips.

"Breathe," he instructed, and she complied. "I should have told you when it happened, but I was a wreck, and I had Sam with me. I just didn't think he could take another shock to his world right then, and no offence sweetie, but the Scooby gang can be shocking," he smiled at her, trying to let her see everything was alright.

Willow's eyes widened momentarily at the term of endearment, Dean had always been affectionate with her, telling her in as many ways as he knew that he loved her. She had always thought it was his way of compensating for that same lack in his relationship with his father.

'_John,'_ she thought guiltily. _'Can I finally tell him the truth? I don't want to risk his life, but he deserves answers after all this time. I was a fool to keep it from him for so long!'_

Dean waited while the internal debate raged through Willow. He knew the signs well, from the biting of her lower lip to the way she was about to wring all the blood out of her hands. When her eyes began to fill with tears for the second time in as many minutes he decided to take control of the situation.

"Will!" He snapped her out of the war going on behind her falsely calm exterior. "I have another question… and it's a doosey," he smiled trying to put her at ease.

Willow's heart beat faster knowing what the next question was going to be.

'_Crunch time Rosenberg, are you going to tell him the truth or are you going to destroy him with a lie? Watch as he tries to piece himself together and rebuild the mask; let it settle between you forever. Can you live with yourself if you do that to him again? He may never forgive you, but isn't he worth the risk? Truth… or lies?'_ She knew the answer to her questions before Dean's escaped his lips; never again, she couldn't lie anymore.


	6. Cruel to be Kind

Cruel to be Kind

Disclaimer: Well I sure as hell don't own it, know why? Cause if I did then Dean would have spent the summer frolicking in a meadow with Sam, and there'd have been a picnic with pie for desert and happy little bunnies hopping about and RAINBOWS!! Weeps Softly

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned by Joss Whedon, Supernatural by Eric Kripke (AKA The Magnificent Bastard).

Author's Note: I'm working ahead of my betas any mistakes are mine.

READ THIS ONE (otherwise you'll be cranky at me for inconsistencies in my storytelling method)

AN2: The flashback this chapter will be told entirely from Willow's POV as she's telling the story to Dean and from Dean's POV to Willow. It's not a flashback it's a narrative/conversation, which means Dean/Willow might be adding snark/asking questions.

Also, some of the myth/legend stuff I'm taking from real sources and some of it I'm pulling out of a hat.

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Cruel to be Kind

June 6th (AKA the day that would not end)

Dean felt like a man on a precipice surrounded by fog; and he couldn't tell how far below him the bottom was. His brain was telling him that the fall would more than likely kill him; but there was a chance the woman he loved and a life, or at least a year, of happiness waited below. Dean knocked back the last of his Jack, took a deep breath, and jumped.

"Why did you leave?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so  
To punish me with this, and this with me,  
That I must be their scourge and minister.  
I will bestow him, and will answer well  
The death I gave him. So again good night.  
I must be cruel only to be kind.  
This bad begins and worse remains behind.

Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 4

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Willow freshened both their drinks and settled into a more comfortable position on the couch.

"Relax Dean, this might take a while," she said with a smile.

"It was August 13th, 2005 and I hadn't seen your father in almost five months, not since the St. Patrick's Day party that doubled as our sixth month anniversary celebration. He hadn't slept in three days, I suspect he hadn't showered or eaten during that time either."

Dean frowned, he'd seen his father focused on jobs before but he usually took better care of himself. Or maybe it was Dean's absence that made the difference, he could remember sitting his dad down long enough to eat a burger or grab a few minutes of sleep when they hunted together. Dean felt a brief pang of guilt at letting his father get in such a state, it was his job to look after his family, and here was another example of how he'd failed them.

Willow saw the frown but decided to ignore it for the moment; she could guess at Dean's train of thought but knew it was useless to try and talk to him about his relationship with John. Better to continue with the events of the past and let the present slide for the moment, they'd be fighting about John soon enough, no reason to rush into the argument.

"Pastor Jim had called John with a possible lead on the thing that killed Mary. He'd gotten a letter from his old mentor Pastor Collin Berks; he was Jim's pastor back in the town where Jim had grown-up. It seems there was a local legend that Berks used to like to tell to the children in his parish and Jim had always believed there was more to the story then what Berks had found. Jim had asked Berks to talk to some others in the religious community to check on a lead he couldn't follow up on his own. Berks was able to confirm Jim's lead but didn't want to say what else he'd found out in a letter. The pastor never told Jim the rest, he died three days after he sent the original letter; Jim asked John to look into it."

"Why?" Dean couldn't imagine his dad just picking up and going to who-knows-where to check up on some old dead guy's obsession with a local legend.

Willow placed a delicate finger against Dean's lips, which spread into a small smile at the touch, tickling her skin.

"Hush, all with be revealed grasshopper," she took her hand away with a slight shiver and rubbed at the goosebumps which had sprung up on her arms. Dean's ability to make her insides turn to jelly hadn't diminished over the past two years.

"Jim grew up in Oklahoma about an hour outside of Cherokee territory, Pastor Berks used to tell him stories about the church located near Fort Gibson which was inside Cherokee land. The story went that back in 1838 the day before the soldiers came to move them out, an elder of one of the soon to be relocated tribes had a vision about a creature of fire. His apprentice wrote down the details of the prophesy as it was told to him, the old man died that night and the next morning they were forced from their homes."

Dean sat up straighter at the mention of a fire monster, catching on to why his dad would be interested in the legend.

"The Prophesy came west with them on the Trail of Tears, the apprentice carrying it the whole way. By the time they reached Fort Gibson the apprentice had come down with a terrible case of pneumonia, the tribe's medicine man said he wouldn't last the night. His only request was to speak with a priest, see the Cherokee nation was one of the "civilized" tribes and many of them had converted to Catholicism. The apprentice handed over the Prophesy to the priest attached to Fort Gibson, this priest, Father Clemons, later established a church about a mile from the fort.

"Pastor Jim used to visit it when he was a boy, the fort and the church are historical landmarks now, but he always wondered what happened to Father Clemons. Three months before we broke-up Jim got his hands on the old church records; they were in Latin so he had to spend some time translating. It seems there was a fire in the church and Father Clemons was killed, there were also reports of a strange young man who was visiting the church around the same time. It wasn't until two weeks after his death that the other priests noticed a scroll Father Clemons had always kept close to him was missing; they assumed the young man stole it in the confusion with the fire, maybe even setting the fire to help him escape.

"The description of the man matched that of a hunter Jim knew was in the area at that time, Samuel Colt. Jim then tracked Colt back to another church this time on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. That's were the trail went cold for a few years until Jim picked it up again in Connecticut. So John headed where Jim lost Colt originally, he went back to Lawrence."

Willow gave Dean a moment to digest this information, letting the names and locations sink in. Dean looked like he might be in shock, his skin had turned pale and there was a faint tremble in his hands as he clutched at his now empty glass. Willow poured them both another shot before continuing.

"The church itself was supposedly abandoned years ago, though no one knew why. It was built by Samuel Colt," Willow looked back to Dean distractedly. She was beginning to worry about his lack of response when he visibly shook himself out of his stupor to address her latest statement.

"A church built by Sam Colt?" Dean began hesitantly, ignoring the mention of his hometown. Too many bad memories were swirling around already; he didn't want to add to them with Lawrence. Willow nodded her head in conformation. "This church wouldn't by any chance happen to be built on or near a Devil's Gate…would it?" Willow straightened in surprise.

"As a matter of fact it was…how did you know?" Dean shook his head and smiled.

"Lucky guess," he answered. Willow narrowed her eyes but let the comment slide for the moment, she needed to get her own story out before cornering Dean on his.

"Right, anyway, this wasn't an active Devil's Gate; it had been closed permanently years before Colt was even born by his father. But he built the church anyway as a kind of 'screw you' to the demons I guess; he even built himself a home on the same patch of land. Colt somehow managed to get a wicca in to bless the site as well as a priest to consecrate the ground, no demon could step foot on the land. Colt began to bring holy relics to the church, things he and his father and God only knows how many other generations of Colt hunters had found. They had cashes like this all over the country, but the one outside Lawrence had information pertaining specifically to Azazeal. Now I don't know if it's a coincidence that the information about the thing that killed your mom was stored there or not, and surprisingly enough John didn't tell me what his thoughts were on the subject," Willow smiled wryly at Dean, trying to lighten the moment.

Dean appreciated her efforts, but after what she'd just told him the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and the Laker Girls getting into a pillow fight couldn't lighten his mood.

"John called us in after he was done picking over what he'd found there. That's why I was called back to Cleveland a few days before…" Willow took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Before I left you," she said finally.

Dean took her hand in his, a silent reassurance that the past could be mended, and a reminder that he was always there for her. Willow reveled in the contact; she'd forgotten how safe Dean had always made her feel. He was the most remarkable man she'd ever known, and while he might not have the right words, his actions spoke volumes about the kind of man he is. She squeezed his hand gently before returning to her story, still physically anchored to Dean.

"Giles wanted me to help him go through the ancient documents, scrolls, prophesies, a couple of demon cookbooks which where both interesting and highly disturbing. Ya know, the usual," Willow smiled. "There was one prophesy in particular that John wanted the Council to help him translate. It was all he asked in return for handing over Colt's secret basement of goodies. I should have known right then that it was gonna be bad…and to make matters worse Xander said 'I think we're ready for anything now!'," Willow huffed in frustration. "That boy is the ultimate jinx sometimes," she grumbled halfheartedly.

Dean set his drink down and scooted closer to Willow on the couch. He could tell by her rambling off topic that they were rapidly approaching the crux of her story. Dean knew Willow would need some distance if he wanted her to finish, but he couldn't stop himself from needing to comfort her. So he settled for sitting next to her, but kept his only contact to the hand he already held, and hoped it was enough.

"What John was able to decipher on his own worried him enough that your father was willing to call in the Council for help; so we can all assume it had nothing to do with sunshine and rainbows," she quipped. "The Prophesy was set to come due sometime soon; John had found it right in the middle of Colt's Azazeal collection, so he was understandably anxious about it. The Prophesy had been partially burned, probably in the same fire that killed Father Clemmons, and it was incomplete, but it spoke of an ancient evil with yellow eyes, Azazeal. Basically from what your father had translated by the time we got there, it said something about how 'The Protector and The Chosen Son would be the only thing standing between Azazeal and The Children of The Fallen Morning Star.' It also said that 'the changing of the tides would occur on the anniversary of love's conflagration.' Your father believed that to mean the day a relationship ignited, began. Our one year anniversary was coming up in a little over a month, and on that day, The Prophesy said 'Azazeal would strike love down.'

"I didn't want to believe him; we fought for hours about it, screaming back and forth. I said…" Willow's voice broke. "I said some really horrible things to him, called him words I didn't even know I knew, and in several different languages," Willow looked up at Dean, a tear starting to make its way down her cheek. "He left a few days later, but I didn't speak to him that entire time, I never saw him again, he'd stop by the Cleveland house, but I wouldn't…and I never got the chance to take it back," she started crying. "Dean, the last thing I said to John was that I hated him, that he was just jealous that you had something good in your life completely unrelated to him, and…and that I wished…Dean I was so angry and hurt and I said that I wished he was dead," Willow broke down sobbing. Dean wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his hand in circles on her back, whispering soothing nothings in her ear.

After a few minutes Willow pulled back with a soft sniff and rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm so sorry Dean, I can't seem to go five minutes without crying on your shoulder," Dean smiled softly raising his right hand to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen down her cheek.

"Trust me Will, I don't mind," Dean kissed the top of her head softly.

"So dad thought he was The Protector and I was The Chosen Son…why?"

"Because you stayed," she said simply as if that answered everything. Unfortunately it did, for his dad the son who stayed would be the chosen one; but Dean was never the chosen, and John as much as he loved his boys, was never their protector.

"This is why you left? To protect us?"

"I know it sounds silly, but Buffy died because of a prophesy…twice. I've seen them come true and they can't be stopped unless you take drastic measures. I should have told you the truth, but I knew you'd want to fight…and I couldn't risk losing you. I guess I did that anyway," Willow forced herself to stop the babble.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain as the last two years came into focus. Everything from Jess's death to him and Sam killing the Yellow Eyed Demon, all of it had been foretold years before by a dying man on the eve of the greatest tragedy his people had ever known.

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He needed to do three things before he could get off this painful subject and move to another one. First he needed to get that panicked look off Willow's face.

"I don't blame you Will; it wasn't your idea to keep me in the dark was it?"

She shook her head, confirming what Dean already guessed. His father had gone behind his back and sabotaged his relationship, he did it with the best of intentions, but that didn't really change anything. Second he needed a few more answers before he talked to Sam.

"Willow, the second part of the Prophesy said that The Chosen Son and The Protector would be able to stop Azazeal from getting to the Children of the Fallen Morning Star. What the hell is the fallen morning star?"

Willow took a breath and steadied herself as she went into teacher mode, blocking out the emotions until they were both ready to deal with them.

"The Fallen Morning Star was a reference to Lucifer, in Latin 'Lucifer' means 'light bringer'. He also became known as the morning star, which is what Venus used to be called, it's the brightest light in the sky, after the sun and the moon, and it looked like a star, but it never raised much past the horizon. In some myths Lucifer was jealous of God for being in the sun and the moon shining brightly over the Earth and so his star fell below that of the lesser stars, or in some religions, God's other angels."

Dean straightened worried; the Yellow Eyed Demon had always called Sam and the others his 'special children'. There was no way in hell Sam was a son of Satan! Dean wouldn't allow it.

"So basically you and your dad were the only people standing between the demon and the children of Lucifer. But with John gone…" Willow trailed off uncertainly. She'd noticed Dean's reaction but wasn't sure what the cause had been.

Dean's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed briefly before he regained control of his emotions.

"The demon's dead, I shot him with a gun made by Samuel Colt, this gun can kill anything. Or it could, I used the last bullet to ice the son of a bitch."

Willow's mouth fell open and her eye widened.

"Dean that's incredible!" She threw her arms around Dean and hugged him as tightly as she could. "Dean you did it," she said, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. "Forgive me if I'm missing something, but shouldn't you be more excited about this?"

"I am Will, I just…" Dean sighed. "There's something you don't know," he finished lamely.

Willow's green eyes looked up at Dean innocent and confused. Time for the third thing he needed to do, tell Willow that his dad had been wrong and Jess had died because of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean held Willow's hands the entire time he told her about the last two years of his life, glossing over the hunts and sticking to the bare facts. His dad's disappearance, going to Stanford to get Sam, Jess's death, Sam's thirst for revenge rivaling John's, finding their father, the Impala getting totaled and Dean's coma. Willow tightened her grip at this point and held onto Dean tightly till he'd finished with how his dad had died to save him.

Willow had been completely silent the whole time Dean was talking, but spoke-up at this point.

"He sold his soul?" Dean knew this was going to be the second worse part of the story. "How could he Dean? How could he do that, knowing what would happen? How could he not call us? How could he not call me?" She ended desperately trying to understand. "You were in a coma Dean; the doctors didn't think you were ever going to wakeup. Maybe I could have done something, maybe it didn't have to end like…." Willow looked up at Dean, tears in her eyes. "How could he? Did he think we wouldn't do everything possible to save you, and him?" She bit her lip trying to find the words. "Did he hate me that much?"

"Willow no! Sweetie no, he didn't hate you. He loved you like a daughter, he just, he really didn't know how to show it," he wiped the tears from her cheeks gently. "And Baby, I know you're angry at him, so was I for a long time, I think in some ways I still am," Willow looked shocked at this statement.

The Dean she had known believed John Winchester walked on water and could do no wrong. But here he was freely criticizing the man, not as harshly as she would be in his place, but it was still a refreshing sign of mental health. Her good mood deflated as she remembered Jess and the mistake that had cost Sam the woman he loved. She had yet to say anything on this subject, she didn't know what to say, and she needed to talk to Xander and Buffy. Giles too while she was at it, maybe Faith; the brunette had become a good friend since she and Dean had started dating and after the breakup Faith had really understood and been there for her.

"But please let me get through this before you say anything," he asked quietly.

"Okay Dean, I'll keep my peace until you're done," she said cupping his face and settling back to hear everything else.

"The Yellow Eyed Demon had some sort of plan for the "special" children. We didn't know what it was but there was no way it could be good. Sammy met this chick, Ava, who had visions like Sam. We stopped by her place to make sure she got home alright, but when we got there we found her fiancé dead, her engagement ring on the blood-soaked carpet, and sulfur on the windowsill. We searched bit couldn't find any trace of her," Dean paused the memory of what happened next overwhelming him for a moment.

"A few months later Sammy was taken," a sharp gasp from Willow was all it took for Dean's façade to crack and a solitary tear to escape. Willow took Dean's hand again and shifted closer to him on the couch. They'd started out separated by the middle cushion, it might as well have been an ocean, but now there was barely an inch between them. Their legs pressed together, hand-in-hand as Willow leant closer to better hear the low rumble of Dean's voice which had become constricted with pain.

For all the ground they'd covered, the distance between them spanned, the physical boundaries broken, there was still a barrier separating them. Emotional walls each had put up to protect themselves from the feelings they'd known which still had the ability to cut straight to the heart. The walls had been crumbling since the moment they had laid eyes on each other. Every secret was out, save one, the last hurdle. Dean knew it could be the undoing of all the progress they'd made.

Dean reached out to brush a stray strand of hair out of Willow's eyes. Her breath caught as he tucked it behind her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut as a sigh escaped her lips at the small caress. When they opened again Dean was momentarily stunned by the intensity he found in their depths. Dean and Willow both leaned in, their lips a breath away from touching, when Dean stopped and pulled back suddenly.

Willow jerked back in surprise, hurt flashing briefly as she scooted away.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered out. "I don't know what I was thinking," Dean cupped her small elf-like face in his large hand, drawing his thumb softly across her lips to still them.

"Don't be sorry Will," he said, husky voice still raw from their near-miss-kiss. "I wanted to kiss you just now, but it would taste like a lie if I did before I've told you what I came here to tell you. After you know everything, if you don't hate me, I'll kiss you till we're both gasping and aching for more. That's a Dean Winchester guarantee," he promised, face serious, as his fingers caressed the back of Willow's neck.

"Okay," Willow said half hypnotized by the mental picture she'd just gotten.

They settled back into each others arms on the couch and after a healthy swallow of the Jack, Dean began again.

"I sent Sam into some roadside dive to grab a couple burgers to eat on the road. We'd just finished a job where we saved some douche and his fiancé, who was way too hot for him. So we were both riding high on the adrenaline, it was raining and I didn't feel like getting out of the car. Sammy agreed to go in instead, I was razzing him and telling him to bring back pie," Dean swallowed hard and got back on track. "I watched him go in the front door and up to the counter. Then the radio fritzed out, I looked down at the console and when I looked back up he was gone.

"I ran inside…everyone was dead. The cook, owner, waitress, customers, everyone; and Sammy wasn't there. I ran to the back door, there was sulfur residue on the edge. The Yellow Eyed Son of a Bitch who killed my mother and my father had taken my little brother, and it was all my fault." Dean's voice broke at this, the shame and hurt radiating off him in waves so strong Willow was sure the earth itself must be able to feel his grief.

Dean swallowed his feelings and continued the story. He glossed over the next sixteen hours that he spent looking for Sam. He told her about calling Bobby for help, and the destruction of the roadhouse. The content of his head splitting Andy-induced vision and the drive to Cold Oak, South Dakota. When Dean reached the part where he and Sam were reunited his voice faltered.

"He was alright, a little banged up but…I had never felt more relieved in my life. Then I saw some guy coming up behind him, he was wearing army fatigues and had a knife in his hand. I shouted, tried to warn Sammy but…I was too late. Again," Dean held himself like the smallest movement might shatter him completely.

"The kid, Jake, stabbed Sammy in the back; sliced clean through his spinal cord. I ran to him, caught him as he fell. But there wasn't anything I could do," tears fell freely down Dean's face as he remembered his brother's death. "Sammy didn't even say a word. He was just…" Dean dashed the tears away impatiently, clearing his throat and getting back to telling Willow what happened.

"I carried Sam back to the car, Bobby had taken off after the kid but he'd gotten away. Bobby caught up with us halfway to the car, he tried to give me a hand with Sam, but I couldn't…I couldn't let him go. Bobby drove us to an old hunting cabin he and my dad had used as a safe house in Nebraska, just outside of Bridgeport.

"I held Sam in my arms during the drive, the two of us crammed into the backseat. I kept hoping I was wrong somehow, that he wasn't dead. Any second he was gonna move, twitch, and all I had to do was be there, and he'd come back," Dean swallowed hard. "He was so warm Willow…how could my brother be dead when he was still warm?"

Willow didn't have an answer and knew Dean didn't really expect one. She wiped at her eyes with the cuff of her shirt, memories of Tara's hot blood drenching her skin, of holding the body of the woman she loved close and not being able to understand "why" or "how" flooded her brain, leaving Willow with perfect understanding of what Dean had felt.

She pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the man in front of her. Dean needed her now, and she couldn't let him down again.

"By the time we reached the cabin he wasn't warm anymore," Dean continued, never noticing Willow's journey to past memories. "His skin was cold to the touch, and I knew he wasn't coming back.

"I don't know how long I sat there, staring at my brother laid out on a moldy old mattress. Every now and again Bobby'd leave and come back with food and booze," Dean gave a pained smile. "Two guesses which one I went straight for."

"The next couple of days are kind of a haze, I remember fighting with Bobby, he must have called a friend to bring him his truck cause when I asked him to go he left the Impala behind. I remember drinking, a lot, and…Sam. When I close my eyes I can still see him laying there. And it was all my fault," his eyes met Willow's, begging her to understand. "I had one job and I screwed it up. I blew it."

Willow fought past her initial anger at what he must have done to save Sam. She wanted to scream and rage; instead she pulled Dean to her and hugged him close. Doing her best to sooth away his guilt with her understanding and forgiveness.

"You made a deal," she whispered into his ear, voice empty of the accusation he feared. At the small nod of Dean's head and the pained "yes" which escaped his lips Willow held him tighter, afraid of what might happen if she let Dean go.


	7. Gilligan Had It Easy

Disclaimer: It's not mine, because not even in my wildest imaginings would I be able to come up with a story as incredible as Eric is giving us right now! Or anything as amazing as Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

The shows are owned respectively by Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon.

Author's Note: I'm working ahead of betas all mistakes are mine.

AN2: This will is kind of a filler chapter; I need to get a few "hello"s out of the way before the boys can have their chat. Sorry for the delay, I caught a nasty stomach-flu and then got thrown into the chaos that is finals. It's best for everybody if I don't go into details.

Gilligan Had It Easy

She was gonna kill him. Dean's baby brother or not, one more worried glance upstairs followed by an angry huff and he was a dead man. Faith could understand why he was worried, after a three hour tour of the facility Willow and Dean were still upstairs talking. Hell, Faith was worried too, but you don't see her huffing and puffing up a storm. The only reason baby bro was still breathing was because of Dawn.

It seems the littlest Summers had a thing for tall, dark, and puppy. A fact which Faith took great joy in teasing her about behind Sam's back during the tour. Faith wasn't sure if Sam reciprocated Dawnie's crush, he was a hard one to get a read on. He was smart, spent the last three hours in an incredibly boring series of conversations with Dawn which both of them found fascinating. And he worried too much about Dean.

That's all she knew.

Every time she tried to find out anything about him or what Dean'd been up to for the past two years, Sam would smile and bat those puppy-dog eyes at her and by the time she realized he hadn't answered her question they were onto a different topic. For three goddamn hours he'd evaded her inquiries with ease, and more then a little smug glee. But the moment they walked in the door and found out Dean was still in Willow's rooms Sam shut down.

He wouldn't talk, answer questions, he barely even responded to his own name. He just sat in the downstairs waiting room, staring into space; and every five minutes like clockwork, he'd shoot a glance at the stairway across the hall, glare, and huff.

Faith had kept her peace for forty-nine minutes, twenty-three seconds, and a fucking three hour tour! Great. Now she had the Gilligan's Island theme song stuck in her head. Not necessarily Sam's fault but Faith wasn't in a mood to be forgiving. One more huff was her limit. Thirty seconds from now either Dean showed or Sammy boy was taking a long walk off a short pier.

xxx

In twenty-one seconds Sam was going to huff, and Dawn wasn't sure what Faith would do when he did. At first the huffs caused a minor twitch of irritation in Faith, but her reaction had been becoming increasingly violent with each huff. Last time Faith shattered the mug she'd been holding, fortunately she finished all the coffee first. Unfortunately the pissed off, caffeine-hyped slayer no longer had anything readily at hand to smash other then Sam.

_Eight seconds …. Fuck!_

xxx

Sam, unaware of the violence about to befall him, glanced once more at the stair case. Just as he was drawing in a deep breath, to better convey his impatience and worry, a strange man wearing an eyesore of a Hawaiian shirt and sporting an eye patch walked through the waiting room's open door.

"Xander!" Dawn cried in relief, running over to give him a hug for his wonderful timing.

Sam ignored the slight pang of disappointment at the sight of Dawn in the other man's arms. It's not like he came here to get laid, he just thought she was a nice girl…really smart too…and pretty.

"Mitts off my man Dawnie," Faith said playfully as she uncoiled from her cross-legged yoga position on the center cushion of the couch. She'd been trying to do some of that deep breathing yoga crap that Red had said should help keep her temper in check. It did alright, but no breathing exorcise invented could release the stress she'd built up like the sight of her man looking at her like she was the only woman in the world.

Dawn sat on the arm of Sam's chair as Faith sauntered over to Xander like sex on legs.

"Xander's been on assignment in the Congo for the past two weeks," Dawn explained in a whisper to Sam. "Faith normally goes with him on Council trips, but he had to meet with an informant who was kinda jumpy about Faith…mostly because the last time he saw her she broke his arm in two places," Sam looked at the dark haired slayer in surprise, but quickly looked away again as he didn't need to witness whatever mating ritual was going on between Faith and Xander.

Dawn was slightly offended by the look she'd spotted cross Sam's face. Did all men see woman as weak little girls?

"She broke his arm?" Sam asked in a tone Dawn couldn't quite place. It wasn't incredulous or judgmental…surprised. That's what it was, surprise. He couldn't believe that Faith had broken some guy's arm.

"What?" Dawn said with building temper. "It's not ladylike to break a man's arm? Cause if I had been in her place and that asshole has copped a feel I would have done a whole lot worse."

Sam held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, trying to mollify the pissed brunette practically sitting in his lap.

"No, I would never assume any woman, especially one who lives here, isn't capable of handling herself," he said, sincerity pouring out of his puppy eyes, making Dawn melt a little. "I just thought there were special rules regarding slayers and humans."

"Oh," Dawn replied, her righteous indignation deflating, quickly replaced by embarrassment. "There are, but the slayers are allowed to defend themselves, and anyone who gropes a slayer's gonna get what's coming to them," Dawn explained, blushing faintly.

"Besides," Xander jumped in, having finally come up for air. "He was a chaos demon, not human."

Sam opened his mouth to ask what a 'Chaos Demon' was and why Xander was using it as an informant instead of just killing the thing when he heard a door open and close up the stairs, closely followed by the unmistakable muffled thump of his brother's boots as Dean made his way down the carpeted hall one floor up.

* * *

_54 Minutes Ago_

Willow reluctantly pulled out of Dean's arms, a million emotions and questions swirling about in her brain, colliding at light speed. In the midst of all that chaos one thought make its way safely to the forefront of her mind.

"How long do we have?" Willow hadn't planned on voicing her query but now it was out there, settling between them.

"A year…we've got one year," Willow tried to muster the strength to be angry, but she couldn't. She was numb all over, Dean had only just come back into her life and she was going to lose him again. Tears stung her eyes as the reality struck home. Willow threw herself into Dean's arms once more with a small sob.

"It's not enough time," she whispered hart brokenly, soft lips pressed against the shell of Dean's ear.

'_I just got him back; you can't take him away again so soon,'_ she silently pleaded with the fates. _'Please, I love him,' _her heart screamed as her arms held Dean tighter.

Willow took a deep breath to center herself. Taking in Dean's scent along with the oxygen; a unique blend of leather, whiskey, chocolate and something she could only identify as "Dean". The leather and whiskey were easy to explain, they screamed "Alpha male" and drove her hormones wild. The chocolate less explicable unless you know Dean and his weakness for all things sweet; if the whiskey and leather were meant to drive the ladies crazy then the chocolate was as soothing reassurance, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety. The final component of his scent, the "Dean Factor" tied everything else together, intermingling the different elements into one perfect bouquet. It swirled around you, through you, sensual rather then sexual.

There was only one word for Dean, from his unbelievably expressive green eyes and freckles to his classic rock and the Impala, from sleep mussed hair to biker boots: Addictive.

Willow had cut him out of her life before and it had almost destroyed them both. It was one of the biggest mistakes in her life, and coming from the girl who flayed a guy and almost ended the world that's saying something.

She was not going to make that mistake again; she wasn't going to let Dean go to hell. Not while she had an ounce of strength left in her body.

Dean felt the shift in Willow, from despair to resolve, and when she pulled out of his hold Dean knew he was going to have a fight on his hands. She wasn't about to let him die in peace…damn it.

Dean didn't have time to argue with Willow about accepting his death. They'd been sequestered together for a little over three hours and he knew Sam had to be getting anxious. But there was one more thing he had to do before he could meet up with Sammy.

"Willow," he said breaking through her reverie. "Remember that favor I said I'd need to ask of you?"

* * *

'_Well,' _Dean thought to himself as he made his way down the hall almost an hour later. _'That went better then I expected.'_

Sam stood as he saw Dean descend the staircase, everyone else in the room fading to the background as he focused on his brother, trying to ascertain how his meeting with the ex had gone. Sam strode over to Dean as he reached the bottom step, the two sharing a wordless conversation. Dean ended it with a small wink and a smirk before heading over to greet the others properly.

A grin grew on Sam's face as he saw Dean hug Faith and Dawn, then giving Xander a manly handshake and a clap on the back. The talk must have gone well, whatever the burden he had been carrying, that weight had been lifted and Dean looked years younger even though he only had the one left.

Dean looked back at Sammy, his eyes sparkling in joy at the reunion with his former friends. If he felt betrayed by their shutting him out before he wasn't showing it now.

Faith broke the happy silence that had fallen over everyone with her usual brand of tact and sensitivity.

"So lover boy, what brings you back after two years? If all this was about a booty call I'm going to be seriously pissed. Sasquatch over there's been driving everyone nuts with the huffing and puffing. Was his last job at a phone sex line or something?"

Sam blushed as Dean's grin grew even wider, Sam couldn't help thinking to himself that he was lucky Dean had gone for Willow instead of Faith, the two of them would be a terror the world might have never recovered from.

"Nah," Dean spoke up slinging an arm around Sam's shoulders for effect. "He's just lost without me is all. Had to try and bolster his courage so he wouldn't cry in front of the ladies," Sam shoved Dean's arm off him with a disgruntled huff causing everyone to start laughing again. Sam reluctantly joined in knowing he'd set himself up for that one.

Dean had effectively deflected Faith's question for the moment but he knew it wouldn't last long. Once she realized he was charming and joking to keep her off balance her slayer instincts would kick in and there'd be no deterring her line of questioning.

It only took about five minutes of joking before Faith remembered that Dean hadn't answered her question about why he was here. She felt a brief flash of irritation at the Winchester line.

'_Don't these guys ever just tell it to you straight?!'_

Faith conveniently forgot all the times Dean was honest to the point of being brutal as it didn't help with her current mind rant. She was just beginning to work herself up into a real temper when Dean spoke again, halting the amusing tale Xander was telling Sam about a hunt he, Dean, and Spike had gone on involving Civil War re-enactors and a troop of vampires who refused to believe that the south had lost.

"Xan, it's a great story but I'm pretty sure you need to attend to your lady. I think she's planning on giving Medusa a run for her money," Xander tuned his head 90 degrees to see Faith, since she was in his blind spot, and quickly squashed the smart-alec remark he'd had planned.

"Yeah…I wonder if only half of me will be turned to stone since I've just got the one eye," alright so maybe the smart-alec wasn't entirely squashed.

Faith turned her icy glare on Xander, who froze like a deer in headlights.

"Guess that answers his question," Dean mused out loud before ducking behind Sammy in mock terror as Faith turned to look at him. Dean peaked out from behind one of Sammy's massive shoulders before bobbing back out of sight with a girlish squeak. Faith laughed ruefully at Dean's antics and the tension level in the room dropped.

She circled around Sam and pulled Dean into another hug.

"I have missed you Winchester," she said softly.

"Yeah, me too Faithie," Dean whispered into her hair, his eyes closing briefly.

They let each other go with a slightly embarrassed smile and Faith punched Dean on the arm lightly to prove how unaffected by emotions they were.

Dean sighed rubbing his arm slightly.

"All jokes aside Faith I can't tell you, it's not my place right now," Dean took her hands in his. "Willow needs to tell you, all of you, together. She needs to do this, she needs to say it out loud to people she can trust."

"Jesus Winchester," Faith breathed out gently. "What did you do?"

"What I had to," Dean dropped Faith's hands and turned to face the others, bringing them into the conversation, even though they'd been eavesdropping already.

"I wanted to say something to the three of you before Buffy, Giles, and Spike get here. I know that they'll understand why I did what I did, and I think you will too but…. I just needed you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused and will be causing. I'm sorry I had to come here and dump all of this on you. I'm sorry we won't have more time together. I'm sorry I can never make this right, make it better," with this said Dean turned to face Sam. Apologizing to him even more then to his former friends. Sam's eyes met Dean's in pain and understanding.

"But I need all of you to remember this, for all that I'm sorry, I would do what I did again in a heartbeat. No hesitation. No second thoughts. And for that I'm not sorry."

Dean broke eye contact with his brother and turned to the Scoobies in the room, noticing that Buffy, Giles, and Spike had joined them while he and Sam were focused on each other.

Buffy spoke first, breaking the worried silence that had fallen.

"Nice to know I'm not the only one with a penchant for depressing speeches." Dean smiled and picked Buffy up, spinning her around as the slayer gave him a bone-crushing hug.

"Can't let you have all the fun now can I Princess?" Buffy squeezed harder and Dean felt his spinal column realign. Dean's arms released Buffy but the Slayer clung on even tighter. "Sorry," he gasped. "I forgot how much you hated that nickname." Buffy let go with a grin as Dean stumbled back a few steps, Sam steadying him.

"That was equal parts payback for calling you the "P" word and punishment for coming back here and upsetting Will right?" Dean asked massaging his ribs.

"Pretty much," Buffy replied flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turned to face Sam. "And you must be the brother we've heard so much about," she said cheerily. "Dean was constantly talking about you. From what he told us you're an absolute genius, I mean a full ride to Stanford, that's incredible!"

Sam's jaw dropped as he looked incredulously at his brother, taking the hand Buffy had offered and shaking it dazedly.

"I didn't know he…I mean…thanks, yeah…" Sam floundered for something sensible to say.

"He was captain of the debate team too," Dean teased. Sam smacked Dean's arm, and Dean quickly smacked him back.

Brotherly balance restored Sam redeemed himself by being witty and charming until Cookie the newbie Vampire Slayer came into the room and let the others know that Willow was waiting for them in the Scoobies Library.

"Showtime," Dean smiled sadly and gave everyone a hug before they went upstairs to where Willow was waiting. He knew there was a good chance they would hate him, or at least resent him for what he'd done, so Dean took this last chance to fix the image of his friends smiling and laughing in his mind.

Faith and Dawn were the last up the staircase; once they were gone Dean nodded towards the door and headed out.

"We leaving?" Sam asked hurrying to catch up.

"Not yet Sammy. Willow's got some things to tell the others, and…I've got some things to tell you. Figured it'd be best if we took this outside."

"Why?" Sam questioned again. Dean smiled slightly, Sam was always asking questions. Always. Hell his first word had been "Why?" Actually his first word was "Damn" but Sam had said the word like it was a question, so that was close enough for Dean.

Luckily Dad had been on a hunt when Sam decided to say his first word so Dean had a whole week with just the two of them to train Sam to say something cute. Not Dean's fault Sam picked up on what he heard around him.

Dean was finally able to change "Damn" into "Dean" and he'd just started getting "Dean" into "Dad" by the time John returned. Unfortunately Sam's brain decided to combine the two words, so John spent a few days wondering just why it was that his son's first word was "Deed", of course another job came along and pretty soon first words were pushed to the back of John Winchester's mind. But twenty years later the memory of walking through the motel room door to be greeted by Sam yelling "Deed!" at the top of his lungs and Dean smacking his hand against his forehead could still bring a smile to John's face.

"Dean?" Sam questioned softly, dragging Dean back to the present.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Why do we need to take this conversation outside?" Sam stopped walking and Dean spun to face him, they'd made it about a hundred yards from the main house while Dean was lost in thought.

"Because I don't want you boxed in, and if you're going to take a swing at something I don't want you to break your fist on a slayer," Dean answered tactfully.

"A couple hundred more yards due north and we'll come to a lake, it's got a couple benches and some nice trees for shade. It's also spelled so conversations are private. We'll talk there." Dean started walking again, a reluctant Sam following behind him.

Dean snuck a glance back at his brother, his thoughts swirling frantically as he tried to find a way to explain all the revelations this afternoon had brought. Unconsciously slowing his steps in the hope of buying more time.

'_Please don't let me screw this up,'_ he prayed silently, a lifetime of memories and responsibilities weighing him down as they crested a small hill and walked down towards the lake.


End file.
